Infant Son
by Phx
Summary: As the infant watched, his mother was forced to the ceiling above him. He blinked, confused by the game she was playing. His eyes locked on his mother’s for one brief moment and he understood.


"_When Max locked me in that closet, that big cabinet against the door—I moved it…" _

"_You've got a little bit more upper body strength than I give you credit for.""No, man, I moved it—like Max."_

Sam and Dean Winchester. Nightmare

**Infant Son**

**-The Story-**

The baby watched the mobile above his head, mesmerized by the way the little animals dangled just out of reach. His mother had left only moments ago but the infant was not tired. He was not hungry and not wet, either; what he was, was curious.

Chubby, soft fingers extended up, reaching for the mobile but it might as well have been the sky, and the six month old experienced frustration. He really wanted to touch it…

Intense hazel eyes locked on the mobile as the child felt his own young mind expanding past his body, like an energy and the baby felt powerful – like an extension of himself was expanding with invisible fluidness towards the prize. The child wriggled with glee as he felt his essence brush against the animals.

Waving his arms wildly, he was rewarded when the mobile slowly started to move… Infant eyes widened in shock; he gave a little chortle – he had done this! He had made that thing move… now maybe he could touch –

_And then he felt the darkness._

The baby whimpered; sensing the pressing evil and malcontent slip into the room until it towered, as a stranger, over the crib. The infant felt the danger and was afraid. He started to cry.

As the man looked down on the child with something akin to hunger, the baby knew he had drawn the beast here – the infant's brief enjoyment of his power, in tormenting the mobile to swing, had lured a demon.

"_Sammy?"_

His mother's voice.

Crying harder now the child responded to her voice – she would protect him. She was his world….

The woman burst into the room and the man merely gave her a glance and sent her on her way.

The baby whimpered again, his little fists beating the air – _don't go away… don't go away_ - and then his mother was back screaming his name.

"_Sammy!"_

Instantly the child quieted; she would protect him.

But she couldn't. Not in the way he wanted…

As the infant watched, his mother was forced to the ceiling above him. He blinked, confused by the game she was playing; his eyes locked on his mother's for one brief moment and he understood.

This was no game. She would die for him. Now.

And then another man was here. A man of comfort and strength – his father. He would save the woman… _don't let her die… don't…_

But his father was powerless to stop the bursting flame.

The infant sought out his mother again but she was gone; his father snatched him from the crib and raced him from the room.

"_Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! Now Dean, go!"_

Smaller arms held him now and he was moving again. Down the stairs, out the front door and into the cool, dark night.

"_It's okay, Sam."_

A child's voice in his ear murmured as thin arms tightened around his body and the baby felt oddly comforted. He recognized the voice. He could still feel the press of those soft lips on his forehead – his brother's goodnight kiss.

_Dean._

And then his father was carrying them both.

…

The man, destroyed, sat on the bonnet of his car and held what he had left. His sons.

The little boy nestled against his side was in shock. He could feel Dean's rapid heartbeat against his body but had no words to comfort the boy. How could he? He had no words of comfort for himself.

The baby in his arms had finally quieted and John felt envy that the infant was too young and would never remember this night. He and Dean would not have that luxury.

Holding the baby close, he closed his eyes and felt the tears. Inhaling deeply he could still smell the scent of his wife hovering over the baby…

_Oh Mary… why?_

…

The baby he envied, envied them. They might carry the memory of this night but he would carry the guilt – the knowledge deep inside his growing mind that he had been responsible for this.

He had used his mind to move a mobile and his mother had died.

In an instant the infant made a connection and a decision.

Sam would never use his power again. The cost was just too high.

_His mother._

Until twenty-two years later when the cost of not using them would be even higher…

_Dean's life._

**The End**

**A/N: The idea that Sam was the one who was responsible for the mobile moving that fateful night was inspired by a remarkable woman, writer and fellow Supernatural geek…**

**To Christy! This one is for you **


End file.
